Dimitrescu's Daughter (Completed)

Chapter Seven: Haunted by Ghosts

Ask mother, Daniela says.

I scoff loudly as I pick myself up off the floor, "Ask her what? If I tell her I hear her dead daughters I'm pretty sure she'll pick me up by my scrawny little neck and strangle me. I am not her favorite child."

Bela says you're her only child. That automatically makes you the favorite, Daniela grumbles, Fine! In my room in the rafters of my bed is a collection of three mice. They're all the mice Cassandra forced into my mouth when we were still new.

I wait until later, not letting mother Dimitrescu notice when I have to shake the buzzing sound away or ignore Daniela's little quips and other odd remarks.

Deep into the night I get my slippers and a candle, hurrying down the hall. Again there are those footsteps and they follow me this time.

It's us, keep going.

When we reach Daniela's room the door eerily unlocks and opens to a dark, warm, dusty room. I go straight to the bed, the only uncovered piece of furniture. Everything else has been covered up and the window has at least two or three layers of drapes that keeps out not only the light but the cold.

Springs groan under my feet and I hold the candle in my teeth far away from my hair, which has grown out to an extremely irritable length. Fortunately mother Dimitrescu doesn't seem to know what a mullet is so she isn't pestering me about it. The maids are a different story entirely.

Lifting up the bed cover I find three skeletal mice, two of which have obvious bite marks on them.

"Okay, I believe you," I murmur, climbing down from the bed.

"Iulia darling."

The sound of mother's voice freezes me to the spot.

"What are you doing in this room? And who are you talking to?" Mother Dimitrescu asks, striding in very slowly. Her eyes glow in the dark and her anger is seething beneath a thin mask of calm confusion.

Before I begin to shake I blink and stare at her for a long time. I yawn and rub my eyes, starting to shuffle past her with the candle.

"Iulia I'm talking to you."

Only when mother Dimitrescu grabs my arm do I look her in the eye. I then look around, pretending to be dazed.

"How did I get here?"

"You don't know?"

I shake my head, "Whose room is this?"

Her grip tightens painfully around my arm for a split second before she releases me and puts a hand on my back to usher me out.

"It was Daniela's," Outside the door she shut and locks it, frowning when she realizes I got in without a key. She turns to me, "I had better not catch you in any of these rooms again. Am I clear?"

"Yes mother Dimitrescu," I murmur.

Candle in hand we start back to my room. This time there are no footsteps.

"You miss them, don't you?" I ask.

"Of course I do. They were my daughters-" That's all she gets out before her throat closes, "They were my daughters."

Reaching up I take her hand, "Not like I am."

"No. When they first woke they barely had any minds. They were like infants in many ways. You, you're much more like a child. You have your own mind and it doesn't always work in my favor because I didn't shape it," Mother Dimitrescu says, "But, I am glad to have you nonetheless."

Back in my room mother Dimitrescu sets me in the middle of the bed and tucks me snuggly in. She sets the candle aside while she fluffs my pillow.

"If you could have them back, would you?" I ask, yawning.

"Of course. But without mother Miranda I doubt that will ever happen. Now rest, we have company tomorrow and I want you to be on your best behavior. Sleep well dear."

Mother kisses my forehead and brushes my hair before blowing out the candle and leaving.

In the darkness I hear the buzzing and the footsteps. Then the bed depresses on two sides.

Do you think you can do it? Bring us back? Daniela asks.

I yawn again, "I'll be damned if I don't try. Maybe with the three of you back I can get out of violin lessons."